


Breaking Invisible Chains

by jaegerjaqson



Category: Kickin' It
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, Friendship, Hurt Jack Brewer, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Past Character Death, Romance, excessive use of ellipses and italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegerjaqson/pseuds/jaegerjaqson
Summary: "Hey Jack, how come we've never met your family?"Jack froze.ORThe dojo questions why they’ve never met Jack’s parents before, and after a suspicious answer, Kim suspects that something may be going on behind the scenes. When the situation escalates to the extreme, the gang is there for the fallout.
Relationships: Jack Brewer & Rudy Gillespie, Jack Brewer/Kim Crawford
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	Breaking Invisible Chains

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! :) This is my first post on AO3. I have been a long-time reader on this site and just recently got around to writing something of my own. I actually started this fanfiction in 2014 (when this fandom was more popular...) but was finally able to finish it during quarantine. I hope you all enjoy this one-shot and let me know what you think!

"Hey Jack, how come we've never met your family?" 

The question comes from Milton, and Jack freezes. He had hoped this wouldn't come up. The gang had been talking about their previous karate tournaments, especially focusing on the ones where Jerry and Eddie's families had come to cheer them on. From there the conversation moved to when they had met Milton's dad at the science lab, when Kim's dad (who loved Jack) had come to visit, and other times they've encountered each other's parents. 

Jack never liked to talk about his family. Especially his stepdad, Abel. Jack's real father had died when he was ten in a car accident. He had been recklessly driving without a seatbelt and Jack had been in the passenger’s seat when he ran a red light and a small truck had rammed into the driver's side. He had died instantly, his body completely pulverized so much so that they had to have a closed casket funeral for him. Jack had walked away from the accident with a broken leg that had completely healed, and a psychological scar that would last his whole life. 

His mother had started to date Abel about three weeks after the accident, and they married right before they moved to Seaford when he was twelve. When they first started dating, Abel seemed like the perfect guy, comforting his mother in the wake of her husband's death. Now that he was older, Jack could see that Abel had taken complete advantage of his mother's state of grief, and by the time they married, his mother was so completely trapped in all his manipulations and lies that she couldn't walk away even if she tried. 

They originally moved from his old town to Seaford because Abel had gotten a better job offer that allowed him more money, but after a couple of weeks, he was fired and wouldn't tell his mom why. The drinking and physical abuse of his mother started right after that. 

When his mom was at her job working the night-shift as a nurse at the local hospital, Jack occasionally became the outlet for his frustrations. Most of the time when Jack came home as late as he possibly could, Abel had already passed out on the couch with beer cans surrounding him. But sometimes, Abel was awake and angry and would smack him around a little bit. Jack let him beat him because even though the strikes hurt, they weren't very coordinated or serious, and only left bruises. Jack also knew that the more Abel didn't relieve himself of his tension, the more it would build up, and the worse of a beating his mom would get when she returned from work early in the morning. 

The few times his friends saw any of his bruises, Jack could easily write it off as extra hard karate practice and no one would blink. That was one of the perks of doing karate. 

"They don't really like karate that much," Jack finally said in response to Milton's question, "so they don't like to come to tournaments or anything."

"So how come they've never come to the school either for Parent's Night?" Kim asked, "And now that I think about it, I've never seen them pick you up from karate practice either."

"My parents don't like Parent's Night, it’s not really their thing. All they need to see is my report card and they're good to go," Jack replied, "Also, I ride my bike or skateboard home from karate since my house is only like 3 miles from here."

Kim nodded and opened her mouth to ask another question when Jerry interrupted. 

"Ohhhhh, no wonder you have such great legs," Jerry said as if he had an epiphany, and everyone stared at him incredulously. 

"What?" Jerry said defensively and held up his hands in mock surrender, "Can't a man appreciate another man's legs around here without everyone freaking out? Geez. Anyway, I'm gonna practice. Milton, come spar with me."

Jerry and Milton stood up from the dojo benches and walked to the center of the mat, before bowing to each other and starting their mock fight. 

Jack looked over to where Kim was sitting next to him, and as he stood up to go practice with a dummy, she gave him a look as if to say: 

_This conversation isn't over._

/

Jack had kicked the dummy thousands of times, practiced his new bo staff routine a dozen times, had sparred with everyone in the dojo at least five times, and practiced his other karate routines as many times as he could before Rudy kicked him out for the night at 10:00. 

By the time he was done everyone else had become tired and left. Kim was the last to leave, hoping to continue the conversation about Jack's parents, but that was at 8:00. Seeing that Jack wasn't going to leave anytime soon, she left under the promise that they would talk later. 

After changing out of his gi, Jack strapped on his helmet, set down his skateboard, and started coasting towards his house. He took as long as he possibly could, but still made it home at 10:45. 

He unlocked the side door to his house using his house key, and crept quietly inside, closing the door behind him, and locking it again. 

The hallway was dark, but Jack saw that the living room light and the TV was on, signaling that Abel was in there. Jack's room was on the other side of the living room, so to get there he had to pass through it. 

Bracing himself, Jack put his skateboard down and hung up his helmet on the hook in the nearby coat closet. He tiptoed out of his black Vans and put them beside his skateboard in the closet. Walking silently down the hallway, turning to the right through the opening before the living room and into the kitchen. He used the flashlight on his phone to navigate, grabbing a water bottle and three granola bars, before peeking around another entryway to see if his step-father was asleep or not. 

He was, and Jack sighed in relief, sneaking quietly past Abel and into his bedroom off another hallway coming from the living room. He opened the door and closed it behind him, setting his food onto his bedside table.

His room was a small 10x10 square, home to a twin bed leaning against the right wall, which were all painted a dark navy. His bedside table was a type of dark wood, which matched the dresser sitting across from his bed. He also had a desk sitting next to his bedside table below a window covered with closed brown curtains, and a white closet on the left wall. Bobby Wasabi posters, skateboarding posters, Kung Fu Lightning posters, and general karate posters littered his walls, as well as pictures of his friends hanging out and competing at their karate tournaments. 

Jack downed his granola bars, before quickly grabbing some sweatpants and a t-shirt from his dresser and heading straight across the hall to the bathroom to take a quick shower. After he was done, he brushed his hair teeth and pulled on his clothes before sneaking back to his room and getting into bed. Flipping off the overhead light, he faced the wall and was asleep within minutes. 

/

Jack was rudely awakened by the feeling of being abruptly pulled out of his bed by his shirt. Looking up, the culprit was his stepfather, Abel. Sneaking a quick peek at the clock showed that it was 2:42, the middle of the night. His stepfather's medium length dirty blonde hair was messy, and he was only wearing some torn up blue jeans, leaving his somewhat muscled chest on full display. His grey-blue eyes were an unhealthy red, and they had purple rings under them. Jack could smell the alcohol all over his stepfather, indicating that he was highly intoxicated. 

_Like that’s anything new_ , Jack thought, as his stepfather shook him by his plain white shirt. 

"I'm starvin', boy," he snarled, and Jack cringed away from the spit flying from his mouth. "Go make me some hotdogs."

"Make your own food," Jack snarled back, and tore himself from Abel's grip, landing on his bed. "I was asleep."

"Are you defying me, boy?" Abel growled, and grabbed Jack by the shirt again, shoving him towards the door, "Since your mother's out lazin' around, someone’s gotta pick up her slack, an' it sure ain't gonna be me."

"Mom is not lazing around!" Jack said angrily. "She's the only one in this house who's actually working and bringing in income while you just sit around and drink beer—"

"Don't talk to me in that disrespectful way," Abel snarled and Jack quieted. "Just go make the damn hotdogs, unless you want your mother to pay—"

"Fine, I'll do it," Jack resigned under the threat of harm to his mom, and stormed out of his room, through the living room, and into the kitchen. Flicking on the dim overhead light revealed a small, outdated brown and yellow kitchen with white appliances. He grabbed a pot from under the counter, filled it with water, and stuck it on the stove. 

"How many do you want?" Jack yelled tiredly into the living room, still not fully awake, and Abel replied with a 'three.' 

When they were done, he stuck them in hotdog buns, threw them on a plate, and stormed into the living room before slamming the plate on the table in front of his stepfather. 

"Here, take your stupid hotdogs, I'm going to bed."

"Whoa whoa whoa, wait a minute—where's the ketchup, _Jack_?" Abel asked mockingly, turning around on the couch to look at him. 

Jack sighed, annoyed, "I'm not your damn servant, go get it yourself." 

"Don't curse at me, boy!" Abel yelled, standing up and striding towards Jack. _Is he really gonna beat me up over such a stupid reason as forgoing the ketchup and cursing?_ he thought. Knowing the answer though, Jack turned and ran to his bedroom, turning around and slamming the door shut, and locking it. 

Or at least that was what would have happened if Abel hadn't stuck his foot in the door. Abel threw it open, making the door slam into the wall, and stormed in, picking up Jack by his t-shirt and punching him straight across the face, right in the eye. 

"Dude!" Jack yelled as the shock of the punch led way to pain. "Not in the face! People are gonna notice it!"

"Oh? Would you rather me punch you here then?" Abel replied, pulling back his fist and slamming it into Jack's side underneath his ribs. The force of the punch rippled through his ribcage, and Jack cried out from the blunt pain. Abel continued to beat him, pushing him to the floor and kicking him in the back and stomach when his fists began to hurt. 

Jack knew that he could defend himself against Abel. He was a second-degree blackbelt who had been training in martial arts his entire life. Yet Jack could not summon the courage to beat down Abel or face him head-on, mainly because of what he would do to his mother if he did. 

Since his mom worked a nightshift, it meant she was home during the day. That was when Jack was at school, and she was left unprotected from Abel. This was why Jack let Abel take out his frustrations on him as much as he wanted: it made him more tired in the morning when his mom came home, and his masochism would be satiated from the night before, leaving Jack's mom less likely to be beaten. Even on the weekends when Jack was at home, he defended his mom the best that he could, but he could never protect her 24/7, and she was still beaten. 

Sometimes, he blamed his mother for not leaving. He would blame her for succumbing to Abel's manipulations, and he would blame her for being in love with a complete douchebag like him. Sometimes, Jack would wake up in the morning to the sound of Abel beating her despite having beaten Jack the night before, and he would lie there and listen, not doing anything. _Maybe after this beating_ , he would think, _she'll realize what a bad guy Abel is, and we could run away_. But that never happened. He would get up when his mom called for breakfast, and they would both pretend that she had not just gotten beaten up and eat their cereal. 

Day after day after day, this endless cycle would continue, and there was nothing Jack could do about it. He'd tried talking his mom into leaving a couple of times, but she would insist he was a good guy going through a tough time, and claim they were happily in love with each other. They both knew it was a lie. His mom was scared. And so was Jack. 

Lying there on the floor in pain, listening to Abel's footsteps fade away, Jack blamed his mother for not having the courage to help him. Despite this, he still loved her and vowed to protect her the best he could. 

His feelings were so complicated. 

"Thanks to you distracting me, the hotdogs are cold now, you brat!" Abel yelled from the living room, and Jack locked his door silently.

/

By the time Jack got back to sleep after treating his injuries, it was 4:00. He woke up at 6:30 to the sound of Abel yelling at who he assumed to be his mom, who gets home at 6:15 from her job. Jack groaned and rolled over to face the wall, groaning once again when the contusions on his back and stomach twinged painfully. 

The voice of Abel got steadily louder as the argument progressed, and Jack pulled his pillow around his ears in an attempt to block out the hateful words being aimed at his mother. 

When it finally seemed to quiet down, Jack got up and pulled on a pair of jeans, a long sleeve black t-shirt with a random dark gray design on it, and some black socks. Unlocking and opening the door to the hallway, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair and put on deodorant. 

Looking in the mirror as he walked in, he saw that he had a very visible black eye on the left side of his face and groaned. Having visible wounds where everyone could see them brought up a lot of questions from people that he really didn't want to deal with today. Lifting up his shirt revealed a bruised black stomach and chest, as well as his back.

Since everyone in his house shared a bathroom, Jack had a plethora of his mom's make up to work with, and with practiced ease, covered up his black eye with concealer and powder. _I'm lucky that my mom and I have the same skin tone,_ he thought to himself absently. For the bruises on his back and chest, he figured his long sleeve t-shirt would just cover that up. 

When that was done, Jack walked down the hallway into the living room where he saw Abel sitting on the couch eating a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a bagel. Jack didn't know how Abel was functioning this early in the morning, as Jack was sure he had been up all night.

_And spent a lot of energy beating me_ , he thought bitterly. 

Walking into the kitchen, Jack saw his mom cooking another batch of eggs and bacon, and a bag of bagels along with a tub of cream cheese were sitting on the table. 

"Morning," Jack said as he walked in, and his mom flinched and turned around quickly. When she saw it was him, she relaxed minutely, and let out a sigh. 

"Good morning Jack," she replied tiredly and turned back to the stove. His mom was wearing a slightly worn light brown dress and had her thin dirty blonde hair pulled up into a messy ponytail at the back of her head. His mom always had tired eyes, and the stress lines on her forehead never went away. She had a sloppily hidden bruise fading on her cheekbone from three nights ago when Abel was angry for no apparent reason, as usual. 

"How was work?" He asked, but they both knew that Jack was just distracting them both from the ticking time bomb in the living room that would inevitably go off with the slightest wrong move. 

"Good," she replied, just like she did every day, back still turned to Jack, who was now sitting at the kitchen table opening the bag of bagels, taking the last one. He slathered one half with cream cheese, leaving the other half plain and on the table, before standing up. 

"I'm gonna head to school," he said to his mother and reached in for a hug, but she suddenly flinched back. He retreated.

"Please try not to make him angry," he added quietly, a little hurt at her reaction.

"You know I don't do it intentionally, Jack," she replied, and smiled at him softly, "Enjoy your day."

Jack smiled without teeth back, a smile which faded when his mom turned around and he looked toward the living room. He hoped the beating he took last night would help his mom at least a little today. 

Moving toward the back door, Jack opened the coat closet and pulled on his regular black high top Vans and strapped his helmet onto his head. Taking a bite of his bagel, Jack grabbed his skateboard and went out the side door. He threw his board down on the ground, jumped on, and kicked off, coasting away from his one-story house of misery. 

/

When he got to school, he was immediately greeted by the sight of Jerry, Eddie, and Milton, talking near the bike rack. He kick-flipped his skateboard down the three-step decline into the school courtyard, ribs twinging, and rode over to them, coming to a stop and popping the board into his hand, unbuckling his helmet so it hung loosely on his head as he walked. 

"Hey guys," he said when he arrived, and three heads at varying heights looked over to him. 

"Hey Jack," they all said at once, and they all looked at each other and laughed. 

"We were just talking about that girl over there—the one with the blue dress," Jerry said excitedly, coming up and laying a hand on Jack's arm, using the other to point across the courtyard to a pretty girl with brown hair pulled back into a French braid.

"What about her?" Jack asked, and Jerry and Eddie looked at him incredulously. 

"Look at her! She's gorgeous!" Eddie cried, staring at her in a way that was kind of creepy. 

Milton rolled his eyes, "She is so not my type."

Jerry looked back at him and said, "And I'm positive you're not hers either." 

Milton got an offended look on his face, "I'll have you know—"

"Shh!" Jerry shushed, "I think she's coming over here—Jack! I got your emergency deodorant, _go go go_!" 

"I'm not interested in her," Jack said and turned to walk away with his skateboard under his arm. Jerry grabbed his arm. 

"B—But c'mon Jack! A girl like that isn't gonna talk to us if you aren't here!" Jerry whined, but Jack snapped his arm out of his grip. 

"I don't care," he said curtly, and walked away toward the front of the building, almost instantly regretting being rude to his friends. Well, school was starting in 15 minutes anyway, he couldn't afford to be late again. 

He walked up the front steps to the school and went to his locker, putting away his skateboard and helmet before grabbing his books and putting them in his backpack for first period. He leaned again the wall next to his locker, rubbing his eyes tiredly. With all of Abel's bullshit, Jack had only gotten around 3 hours of sleep, and he was very tired, and in pain from last night's beating. _I should have taken some painkillers_ , Jack thought. 

Maybe he could take a nap in first period and borrow Milton's notes later since they were in the same class. Milton probably wouldn't approve of him napping, but he has to do what he has to do to get by, and since they were friends, he'd most likely give him his notes. 

Just then, the five-minute warning bell rang, and Jack hurried to his first period class. 

/

Luckily in first period, Milton allowed him to use his notes, so Jack sat in the back of the room and took a nap the whole period, not being disturbed once since his teacher didn't really care about their education that much. 

In his second period, after blearily walking half-awake to his next class, he slept the whole time once again, luckily not needing any notes since the teacher dedicated the class to be a study hall when she saw they were ahead of her other periods. 

In third period though, his luck ran out. It was decided that today would be an active participation day, where you had to take full part in the discussion on the book they were reading (which he hadn't even started on) to get full points for your grade. He eventually decided ' _to hell with it_ ' and put his head down for some more sleep, knowing that he would get a failing grade anyway even if he did participate. 

Before he could fall asleep though, Kim, who was in the same class as him, shook his shoulder. "Jack, wake up. You can't go to sleep today; you'll fail if you don't do the discussion." 

Jack looked up at her, taking his head out of his arms, "I'm gonna fail anyway, I haven't read the book. Besides, I'm tired, go away."

Kim seemed to have frozen in front of him, and when he tried to tell her to sit down again she interrupted, "Jack . . . what happened to your eye?"

Fear gripped him for an instant, and he quickly looked down at his sleeve to see that while he had been sleeping, some of the makeup covering his black eye had been wiped off on his shirt. He tried to fake innocence and replied, "W—What do you mean?"

"Jack, you have a black eye!" Kim exclaimed, and a couple of kids in front of them turned around in their chairs to look back at them. 

"Do I?" Jack asked in what he hoped seemed like surprise and brought a hand up to gingerly prod at his right eye, drawing it away when the pressure caused it to hurt, "That's weird." 

"And what's that on your sleeve?" She asked suspiciously, grabbing his arm. "Makeup? Were you trying to cover it up? So, you did know about it." She leveled him with a glare. 

"Not here Kim," Jack said, snapping his arm away and inconspicuously wiping the makeup off with his hand. "The bell's about to ring."

"Fine Jack," she relented and threateningly pointed a finger at him. "But you're a fool if you think we aren't going to talk about this later."

She walked away to her seat nearer to the front of the classroom, and as she sat down, he put his head back into his arms, falling asleep and not waking until the end of the period. 

Jack woke when the bell rang, becoming fully awake when he felt someone—Kim—shaking him. 

"I'm up, I'm up," he said, stumbling a bit as he stood and threw his bag over his shoulder. Kim grabbed his arm as soon as he was stable and started walking toward the door. 

"Geez, slow down," he said, struggling to keep up with her, but she didn't listen to him. 

They made their way through the crowds of teenagers going to lunch, Kim occasionally pushing people out of the way, who in return shot them dirty looks. As soon as they reached the main room at the front of the school, Kim opened Mr. Nakamura's janitor office and pushed him inside ahead of her, turning on the lights. 

The overhead light lit up the office, revealing a very cluttered desk with a chair, and newspaper articles of Nakamura's wrestling days on the wall. There was also a chair by the door that Kim pushed him into, and she stood in front of him after closing the door. 

"What is that? What happened?" Kim asked angrily, firing off questions regarding his eye right as the door closed. 

"It's nothing—" he started. 

"Nothing?! Your eye is black, Jack!"

He smirked. _Black Jack_.

"Stop smiling!" she yelled, "How did your eye get like that?"

Jack tried to shrug it off, "It was an accident, I fell and hit my face on the break bench practicing my bo staff routine—it’s not that bad, I promise."

"I think I would have remembered you falling and hitting your face, Jack," she said, hands on her hips. 

"It happened after you left," Jack countered, knowing she knew he left way after she did. 

"But you always practice your bo staff routines right after your regular katas, and both of those things happened way before I left the dojo."

"I . . . went back to it because I realized I wanted to . . . change it up a little bit; make it more challenging."

"You've never done that before, and besides, you have to consult Rudy before changing anything in your main competition routine."

"It wasn't the competition routine; it was one of the ones I was doing for . . . fun. To work on the skills Rudy doesn't let me hit on as much."

"Why would you even be near those benches anyway? You're supposed to be in the middle of the floor with the bo staff and those benches are in the very front—far away from the center of the mat," she countered. 

Jack hesitated for a moment, something he knew Kim caught when her gaze sharpened, "Okay I admit it—I may have been . . . fooling around a bit, y'know, walking on the benches with the bo staff—"

"Is that really all you've got Jack? I know you didn't hit your eye on a bench, and I know you haven't been working on another bo staff routine besides the one for competition. You only practiced one while I was there, and I would have seen you working on another routine you'd been doing awhile. What's the real reason you have a black eye, Jack?" she finished, sighing in a mixture of annoyance, impatience, and worry. 

"I told you," he replied, exasperated, "It's nothing you need to worry about. Let it go, it was just an accident at the dojo." He stood up, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm hungry, so I'm going to head to lunch now."

Before he could leave, Kim put an arm out in front of him, blocking his way to the door. "Fine, don't talk about it, Jack," she said, looking him right in the eye, "But just know that I'll be watching you."

When Jack didn't meet her eye, she sighed, her eyes softening a bit as she looked at his injured eye again, "You know the only reason I'm doing this is because I'm worried about you right?"

"Yeah, I know. Thanks," he said, making eye contact with her and smiling softly, causing her to smile back and move her arm. He opened the door, and they both went through together, making their way to lunch. 

/

After school was over, Jack got the things he needed for that night's homework out of his locker, putting away the unnecessary things. At lunch, he and the guys had made up after Jack apologized for being snappy, and they asked him about his black eye, something they hadn't seen that morning due to the makeup covering it. Jack told them the same thing he told Kim to keep his story straight, and besides a suspicious look from Milton, they all seemed to accept it fairly well. 

They then decided to meet up at the bike rack after school before heading to the dojo, as they usually did. Jack was supposed to tell Kim, but he couldn't find her in the cafeteria before the bell rang and decided to just find her after school. 

He walked out into the main courtyard, already seeing Jerry, Milton, and Eddie talking by the bike rack across the way. Looking around some more, Jack saw Kim on the opposite end of the courtyard talking with a group of three girls. His skateboard under his arm and helmet hanging loosely on his head, he jogged down the stairs and headed in their direction. 

Kim's back was to him as he approached, so the first one to notice him was her friend who he didn't know. She immediately straightened her posture and elbowed both girls on the side of her, whose attention snapped to him. Kim's sentence was cut off as she noticed the change in their behavior and turned around to see him walking over. 

"Hey Jack," she smiled, and he greeted her back, smiling, "Hey."

"Um . . . what's up?" she asked, glaring back at her friends when they giggled, whispering to each other. 

"The guys and I are gonna head over to the dojo right now. Wanna walk with us?"

"Oh sure—just let me get my homework from my locker, I left it in there after last period," she replied, smiling brightly, and scurried over to the school, disappearing through the front doors when she reached them. 

His attention was moved from watching Kim's back to the girls in front of him when the one in the middle, who was wearing a blue dress, spoke, "Hi, I'm Amy," she smiled, "and this is Hannah"—she indicated the girl on her left, then the one on her right—"and Caitlyn."

"Jack," he replied, smiling briefly, and returning his attention to watching the school doors. He forgot to tell Kim to meet him at the bike rack, so he had to stay here until she returned. 

"What happened to your eye?" asked Hannah after a moment of silence, stepping closer to him, "Did you get it doing karate? It must have hurt."

"It's not that bad," he said, leaning slightly away from her, "and yeah, I got it practicing a bo staff kata."

" _A bo staff kata_ ," repeated Caitlyn smiling; the girl on the right, "sounds manly."

"I guess, but Kim does them too—"

"I bet she doesn't do it as well as you do though . . ." Amy smirked, coming up and laying a hand on his arm, squeezing a bit, "After all, she doesn't have all these muscles . . ." 

Jack smiled uncomfortably as they all giggled, not used to being hit on so bluntly. He looked back at the entrance to the school to see if Kim was back yet, but she wasn't at the entrance and the path towards them was devoid of her. 

"So, what are you doing after school today, Jack?" asked Caitlyn, and they all looked expectantly towards him, "Want to catch a movie? Go to the bowling alley? I'm sure there's enough of you to keep us all entertained . . ."

Jack tried to let them down easy, "Sorry, I'm heading to my dojo after school today. I already promised my sensei I'd be there to help with his afternoon class."

That was a lie. Rudy didn't let him help teach his classes yet, despite his black belt status, claiming he still had a lot to learn. But saying he had to teach a class sounded a whole lot better than saying the truth: that he just wanted to chill at the dojo with his friends. 

They looked disappointed. "Awww . . ." Hannah said, sticking out her lower lip.

"Well," Amy said flirtatiously, moving her hand from his arm to his abs, skimming over his bruises, "If you ever want to hit me up, you know where to find me."

With that, she slipped a folded piece of paper into his jean pocket—an obviously pre-prepared note with her number on it. Just then, Kim showed up with her slightly fuller backpack in tow. 

She grabbed his arm in a firm grip, causing him to wince, smiled tightly at her friends, and said curtly, "Thanks for keeping him company: Hannah, Amy, Caitlyn. We'll be going now," and stomped away, dragging him in tow. 

"Those your friends?" Jack asked as soon as they were out of their hearing distance. 

"Not anymore," she growled, stomping ahead of him. Jack was wise enough to keep his mouth shut, and they silently made their way to the bike rack where the rest of their friends were waiting. As they reached it, Kim just plundered on ahead, not stopping to say 'hi' to anyone. 

"What's her problem?" Eddie asked, watching as Kim stormed in the direction of the mall area. 

"No idea," Jack replied, then turned to Jerry, digging in his pocket for the scrap piece of paper Amy put her number on and handed it to him. 

"By the way, here's the number of that girl you liked from this morning."

Jack smirked as he turned away to follow Kim, the sound of his friend's footsteps and Jerry's famous 'WOOO!' not far behind. 

/

Kim eventually calmed down enough for the rest of them to catch up with her, and they all talked about whatever came up as they made their way to the dojo. They were supposed to be there for regular practice at 5:00, giving them time to go home first, but Jack always came right after school ended at 3:00. Most of the time his friends followed suit, but sometimes they had to go home first for family reasons.

When they entered the dojo at 3:25, it was completely empty, Rudy's 2:00 class having left right as their school ended. Rudy was probably in his office, doing who knows what, so they sat down, leaning against the walls, and pulling out their homework: their usual routine. 

It took them about an hour to finish, Jerry and Eddie complaining the whole time (and secretly cheating off of Milton when they could), but they did finish responsibly. They packed up their stuff and set their backpacks out of the way in the corner of the room, before rushing to the locker rooms to change into their gis. 

It only took about 10 minutes to change (Jack in the bathroom stall), and when everyone was out, they started setting up and got started warming up with a group exercise led by Kim. 

They worked for an hour on individual skills, when at 5:00, Rudy came out of his office and started to help them learn new skills, watch their spars, and correct their mistakes. 

It was 30 minutes after that when it all went to hell. 

The ringing of the bell over the door signaled that someone had entered the dojo, and not expecting anybody, Rudy went to go check out who came in. He was expecting it to be Phil or Joan with some story of something crazy that happened to them, but what he wasn't expecting was a six-foot-tall man who looked like he'd lived every single day of his life at the gym. The man was wearing ripped blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a dark jean vest with the sleeves ripped off. His longish, dirty blonde hair was hanging loosely around his ears, and a lit cigarette was dangling from his lips. His eyes were red, and he absolutely reeked of alcohol.

"Is Jack Brewer here?" he slurred, seemingly impatient. 

"Um . . ." Rudy hesitated, unsure, and more than a little bit cautious of the dodgy guy asking for his best student, "That remains to be seen. How do you know him?"

"He's my step-son," he snarled in reply, "Where is he?"

"Step-son . . .?" Rudy questioned to himself, turning around to look at Jack, who was currently practicing his backward kick on a dummy. It came as a surprise to him that Jack didn't have a stable family, seeing how well Jack got along with other people and the way he projected himself. Having a drunk for a mother himself, he knew how embarrassing it was for your drunk parent to show up in public around you and wanted to spare Jack the humiliation. This didn't mean he and Jack weren't going to talk about this later though—they sure as hell were. 

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Otherwise, I'm going to have to call mall security. It's against the rules here to be drunk in public."

"No . . . no," Jack's stepfather mumbled, "He needs to come home— _now_."

Rudy didn't know what to do. Since they were technically on public property, Rudy didn't have the right to refuse to hand Jack over. But on the other hand, he knew that Jack couldn't go with this man—he was drunk, aggressive, and dangerous. 

"Well," Rudy started hesitantly, "We are in the middle of our very important practi—"

_Orrrr you could just push me out of the way that's cool,_ Rudy thought as he was pushed into the archway to the dojo like he was an annoying fly. 

Jack's stepfather stormed over to him, grabbing the back of his gi and yanking him around. Recognition flashed in Jack's eyes as he saw his stepfather, and a feeling of apprehension swelled in his gut. 

"Abel . . . what are you doing here?" Jack said hesitantly, yanking himself out of Abel's grip. Jack could feel the stares of his friends on the back of his neck, and the gym went quiet as all attention was turned to them.

"We're leaving," Abel growled, grabbing Jack's arm in a vise grip. He started pulling him towards the door, but Jack got out of his hold once more. 

"I can't leave—I'm in the middle of practice," Jack protested, but Abel's glare sharpened.

"If you don't come with me now . . . you'll regret it."

Jack looked over at Rudy with a sick feeling in his stomach, and he nodded to his stepfather, "Just. . . let me change outta my gi first. I'll hurry."

Jack jogged quickly into the boys’ shower room and changed out of his gi and back into his regular clothes as quickly as possible, right in the middle of the room. Normally he changed in the stall, and though he didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, he did it to hide the bruises. Plus, he was in a hurry. 

He scurried back out of the gym to meet his step-father, who grabbed his upper arm and dragged him out of the dojo, mumbling obscenely under his breath. 

“Abel, what’s wrong? Why are you here?” Jack asked with urgency for the second time, as Abel dragged him towards his car. Why would Abel come and get him from karate practice? Jack didn’t know that Abel even knew he was doing karate, let alone what studio he would be practicing under.

“Shut up,” Abel said, shoving Jack’s shoulder into the passenger door, “Get in and let’s drive.”

Jack rubbed his shoulder, and got in the front seat, buckling his seat belt. Abel got into the front seat without bucking his own seat belt, and, in a remarkably similar fashion as Jack’s real father had done all those years ago, drove off.

/

When Abel pulled into the driveway of their own house, safely somehow even though he was obviously drunk, Jack was a little confused.

“What are we doing here? You didn’t pull me from karate to do something as stupid as making a hot dog for you right?” Jack asked incredulously, and Abel snarled at him.

“Just COME ON!” Abel yelled, and shoved by Jack harshly, stumbling to the front door, Jack following.

Once Abel unlocked the door and let both of them inside, Jack understood what was wrong. Jack’s mom: face-down, laying on the floor of the kitchen, unconscious, with a pool of blood surrounding her head.

“ _MOM_!” Jack screamed and rushed to kneel beside her, hovering his hands over her body, unsure of what to do. He grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and swiftly put it under his mom’s head, but there was so much blood he couldn’t tell where the wound was. She had to be dead; there was too much blood for her not to be.

At that thought, Jack’s anger suddenly and viciously overtook his worry, and he stood up, turning back toward Abel.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HER?” Jack screamed, grabbing Abel by the lapels of his raggedy jean vest, and viciously shook him.

“I DIDN’T DO _NOTHIN’_! She jus’ fell and hit her head!” Abel screamed, sloppily shoving Jack off of him, who tripped over his mother’s prone body and fell onto the living room.

“Fell, YEAH RIGHT!” Jack yelled, getting to his feet, “More like pushed! SHOVED! _BEATEN_! Don’t think I don’t hear you yelling at her and hitting her every morning!”

“She deserves it!” Abel scoffed, stepping over Jack’s mother and getting in Jack’s face. His breath smelled like a liquor store. “She can’t do a damn thing right. I never shoulda married the bitch: she’s awful in bed and comes along with a devil-spawn like you. Can barely support me as a good wife should. But I don’ wanna be charged for murder. Clean this up, boy.”

Jack felt a rage nothing like he’s ever felt before, and forgetting his more efficient karate methods, he charged Abel, knocking them both to the floor. Jack got in a few solid punches to Abel’s face, before Abel flipped them and punched Jack solidly in the nose. Jack yelled and saw stars as the punch knocked his head into the floor below him. Blood spurted out of his nose and rapidly coated Abel’s fists and Jack’s face. It amazed Jack that even while stupidly drunk, Abel had enough awareness and strength to almost cave Jack’s face in.

Jack growled and pushed up against Abel, and they wrestled for a tense few seconds before Abel had Jack on his stomach, holding his arm behind his back.

“Get _off_ me!” Jack snarled, attempting to buck off the heavy weight of his step-father.

“I won’ let you go until you agree to help me fix this fuckin’ mess,” Abel replied, yanking Jack’s right arm up painfully higher along his back.

“NEVER! I’m going to _KILL_ you for what you’ve done to my mom! I should have killed you _years_ ago!” Jack yelled, before renewing his struggles. Abel simply yanked his arm higher and higher, ignoring Jack’s protests, until a sickening _CRACK_ filled the air.

White-hot pain raced from Jack’s upper arm throughout his shoulder and wrist. He yelled out in pain, but Abel continued to push up his arm up his back until he had Jack screaming and tapping out desperately against the floor with his left hand. He could feel his arm bone near his shoulder physically cracking further with each push.

Then, Abel abruptly got up, leaving Jack panting in pain on the floor, until he realized that Abel didn’t get up because Jack tapped out; sirens were coming from down the street, and they were getting louder.

_What the hell?_ The thought floated through Jack’s pain-hazed mind as he flipped onto his back and gazed at the red and blue lights blinking off the blinds. _Why are the police here?_

“SEAFORD PD!” A voice yells from outside the front door along with violent knocking. Abel crouched down next to the blinds and shushed Jack, who was in too much of a shock to even respond to the situation.

When no one responded, a normal flashlight peeked through the window before loud footsteps ran to the door. The door swung open violently; Jack then realized that neither he nor Abel locked the door when they came inside.

The scene the two police officers walked in on was bloody: Jack’s mother, laying on the ground with a pool of blood under her head. Abel, by the blinds with blood on his fists and in the corner of his mouth, appearance harried. Finally, Jack, on his back on the ground, gripping his upper arm in pain, and blood coating his entire face and front from his nose, face bruised.

Before Jack could get a word in, Abel shakily stood, obviously drunk, and yelled from his position at the window, “It’s that fuckin’ kid’s fault! He pushed my wife ‘nto the counter an’ started beatin’ me up! I was only actin’ in self-defense!”

The police immediately looked to Jack, and one began to run towards him while the other spoke into a microphone attached to his collar that the paramedics were needed at the scene.

“ _No_!” Jack yelled, gasping in pain, and pointed to his stepfather, “I didn’t do it, he did!”

The cop next to Jack looked confusedly between the two, before his partner, who had rushed to Jack’s mother, yelled, “Arrest them both!”

Abel began to panic and tried to stumble towards the back patio door off the living room. The cop quickly jumped at Abel and tackled him to the ground before he could get the chance, swinging Abel’s arms around his back and cuffing them together.

The other cop, finished applying as much first aid as possible to his mother, swiftly came towards Jack and turned him on his stomach, and when he began to cuff his arms together, Jack screamed in pain as his broken arm was jostled.

The cop flinched back a bit but followed through cuffing his arms behind Jack’s back without sympathy and lifted him up to the sound of sirens in the distance.

“You have the right to remain silent . . .”

/

_I can’t believe this is happening._ Jack thought, sitting in a holding cell at the police station.

Both he and Abel had been brought to the station, interviewed about the events that transpired, and then were separated into two different holding cells. Jack’s nose had stopped bleeding and the blood cleaned from his skin, but his shirt was still heavily stained and his arm untreated. The bruises from last night’s beating were still heavily apparent, his eye, chest, and back blackened. He winced.

Jack didn’t know what happened to his mom. By the time he and Abel were packed into police cars and driven away from their house, the ambulance had arrived, packed his mom up, and driven off already. That’s all he knew. But from the amount of blood on the kitchen tile . . .

_No, don’t think about that. An ambulance wouldn’t race off that quickly if she were dead . . . right?_

He didn’t know what he would do if his mom died. He couldn’t deal with another parent’s death. Not so soon after his dad’s a few years ago. And would never live with Abel alone. Jack would rather live in the streets than go back to living with that monster.

Before Jack could flesh out his detailed plan to be homeless, an officer came up and unlocked his holding cell. Jack stood up abruptly.

“You’re free to go,” the officer said and started leading Jack towards the front of the police station.

“What? That’s it? But what about my step-father?” Jack asked.

“He’s being charged with attempted second-degree murder, domestic violence, and resisting arrest. You may have to appear in court or make statements throughout the next couple of months, but we will mostly take it from here,” the officer replied.

“Wait—attempted? Does that mean my mom is alive?” Jack asked, desperately gripping the officer’s sleeve.

“Yes, she is, we heard that she has a cracked skull and a severe concussion, but she is stable. You may use the phone at the front desk to call someone to take you to the hospital, or one of our officers can take you over since you probably have no one to call,” the officer replied.

Jack felt immediate relief that his mom was okay for the time being, but also a little contempt at how insensitive the last part of the officer’s sentence was. That was before Jack realized: did he have anyone to call? It was 10:30 at night, would anyone care enough to answer his call and come out and pick him up?

Maybe Rudy would . . . he was the only adult figure left in Jack’s life after all. Walking to the phone, picking it up, and dialing the number, Jack hoped that Rudy would be able to forgive him for messing up so badly.

/

Rudy was sound asleep in his recliner, sleep mask on, when his phone suddenly started blaring. He violently startled awake and flailed in his chair a bit before realizing that it was his ringtone that woke him up. He fumbled the side table for his phone before groggily answering, “Hello?”

_“Rudy . . . it’s Jack.”_

“Jack? Why are you calling? I was asleep; it’s 10:30 at night,” Rudy responded, confused.

_“Um . . . I’ve been arrested. I need someone to come pick me up.”_

“WHAAAT?” Rudy yelled, suddenly wide awake. He stood up abruptly from his recliner and threw off his sleep mask, blearily searching the room for the nearest pair of shoes.

“JACK! What happened?” Rudy said, finding some nearby slippers and throwing them on, already on his way out the door.

_“I’ll tell you when you get here I just . . . need someone to take me to the hospital. Um, my mom is there.”_

“What hap—you know what, never mind. Jack, I’m on my way.”

/

Jack was sitting in one of the leather chairs by the entrance to the police station when Rudy scrambled in. Jack immediately stood and Rudy ran over to him.

“JACK! Oh, my g—you look terrible.”

“Yeah well, you try getting the shit beat out of you and see what you look like,” Jack replied sassily, already going up to the counter to get his stuff that was confiscated when he was brought in.

“I didn’t mean—well, uh, sorry,” Rudy said and hovered over Jack’s shoulder as he lifted the pen to fill out the paperwork to get his stuff back. But—

“AH!” Jack yelled out, dropping the pen and he grasped his upper arm.

“What’s wrong?” Rudy questioned quickly, hovering both hands above Jack’s arms.

“I, um, may have broken my arm,” Jack winced.

“ _BROKEN_?” Rudy yelled, “JA—“

Rudy abruptly cut off his upcoming rant about what this would mean for the upcoming karate tournament when Jack violently flinched at his raised voice. Rudy suddenly realized that both Jack and his mom were injured, and Jack had no one to call but Rudy, meaning his drunk stepfather from earlier . . .

Rudy suddenly grabbed the pen and began to fill out the paperwork.

Once the lady at the desk slid over Jack’s phone and wallet encased in a plastic bag, Rudy picked it up and herded Jack out the door toward his car. Rudy helped Jack into the passenger seat, and they were off.

/

Once they arrived at the hospital, Rudy herded Jack into the emergency room.

“But—my mom,” Jack said, stretching his neck to look toward the main entrance of the hospital.

“No way am I letting that broken arm go untreated any longer, Jack,” Rudy said, steering Jack in front of him and through the doors of the emergency room, “And it’s not just because I want it healed for next month’s tournament either . . .”

Jack relented too easily, showing Rudy that he really was in a lot of pain.

Once they walked in, a nurse immediately walked up to them, noticing the blood on Jack’s shirt, and checked Jack into an exam room. Jack hopped up onto the bed in the middle of the room, and she questioned him about his condition. When Jack explained his injuries, she left to arrange an X-ray for his definitely broken arm and possibly broken ribs from the night before.

After she exited the room, Jack leaned back into the elevated back of the bed and sighed heavily.

“Jack, what happened tonight?” Rudy questioned hesitantly after a long silence, sitting in the visitor chair in the corner of the room.

Jack sighed again, and responded, “Look, Rudy, I don’t really w—”

Before he could finish, they both heard a commotion from outside the room.

“Is this where he is?” A female voice questioned urgently, and to the sound of nurses protesting, the door suddenly burst open to reveal Kim Crawford in all her glory.

“Kim? What are you doing here?” Jack said confusedly but he didn’t get the chance to say anything more before Kim ran up and hugged him tightly.

“OW! Kim my arm!”

“Oh sorry!” Kim said, and backed off a bit, but continued to embrace him and look over his awful state. “Jack are you okay? What happened to you?”

“Kim, how did you get here? How did you even know I _was_ here?” Jack said, ignoring her questions.

“Rudy texted me,” Kim responded, “But—"

“Rudy!” Jack yelled, and Rudy put his hands up innocently and leaned back in his chair in response to Jack’s glare.

“What?” Rudy said, “I know I’m an adult, but did you really trust me to be able to handle this on my own? I needed to call in reinforcements. I barely know what I’m doing.”

Jack sighed, but honestly, he was really glad Kim was here. If Rudy hadn’t texted her, Jack was sure he would have called Kim himself.

Just then, the nurse returned and began to wheel Jack out for his X-rays, to his relief. But, despite this reprieve, he knew he would have to tell Kim and Rudy what happened eventually, it was only a matter of time . . .

/

“So, it looks like you have a greenstick humeral fracture in your right arm. We took an X-ray of both arms to compare the two, and as you can see in this photo—” The nurse pointed to the photo of his broken arm. “—your humorous bone is bent outward and cracked along the outward bend when it’s supposed to look like this photo—” She pointed to the photo of his normal arm, which looked a lot straighter than the other. “Thankfully, the bone was not broken in two so surgery will not be required. As for your ribs, they are thankfully just bruised and not cracked or broken. Just take it easy on them for the next few weeks and they should heal up just fine.”

“However, to start the healing process on your arm we do need to set the bone in order for it to heal straight, so you will be given pain medication for this procedure or if you would prefer, we can sedate you,” the nurse explained, “Then, we’ll put you in an elbow cast and sling for about four to eight weeks, although you may need to come back in earlier than that for a check-up X-ray so we can make sure everything is healing alright. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” Jack said.

He had been listening silently up until that point, looking at a random spot on the white tile floor beside Kim’s pink converse shoe. Suddenly, the ramifications of breaking his arm had settled into Jack’s mind. No karate for four weeks? And that was at the earliest. They had a tournament coming up next month that the dojo _needed_ Jack for. Although, karate wasn’t really his main concern at the moment. His mom on the other hand . . .

“So, after four weeks he can go back to the dojo right?” Rudy desperately asked.

The nurse looked at Jack sympathetically. “It may take a little longer than that. While these sorts of fractures usually heal within four to eight weeks, it’s a good idea to wait at least four to six additional weeks after the cast comes off to continue with sports. A recently healed fracture is a lot more susceptible to breaks than a bone that’s never been broken. The fastest way to get back safely is, of course, to patiently take the time to let yourself completely heal.”

Rudy moaned dramatically from his chair in the corner.

“Okay,” Jack said, and Rudy looked at him almost offended for dismissing karate before he continued: “When can I see my mom? She was checked in around 6:00 or so earlier today.”

“Well, let’s go ahead and get that arm situated, and then we’ll see if we can get you checked out and headed upstairs, alright?” The nurse replied as she started Jack on a morphine IV drip to prep him for the setting of his arm.

The nurse left as Jack laid down, and Kim pulled up a chair and took his hand. Before she could start speaking, though, Jack said softly, “How did you even get here? It’s like 11:00 at night.”

Kim blushed a bit, and said, “I rode my bike down here, my house is a few blocks away . . . actually, my parents don’t really know I’m here. I kinda snuck out.”

“Seriously?” Jack said, “Won’t you get in trouble with your parents?”

“Maybe, but it was worth it to come down and make sure you were okay,” Kim said, and Jack must be getting loopy from the morphine because he thought he just heard Kim imply that she cared a lot about him.

“Wow, uh, thanks Kim,” Jack smiled slightly at her.

“Yeah well . . . you had that black eye earlier today and I was just worried that something was going on. And now, you’re in the hospital with a broken arm and a bruise for a face so maybe I was right to be worried. Where is your stepfather anyway? Is he with your mom?” Kim asked unknowingly.

Jack’s smile dropped and his gaze fell from her face to their conjoined hands. Rudy leaned forward in his seat from the corner.

“He’s . . . kind of the cause of all of this,” Jack said, his words slurring a bit as the morphine actually began to kick in.

“Jack what . . .” Kim said, connecting eyes with Rudy as they shared a concerned look, Rudy’s more resigned, as he already got an inkling of the situation at the police station.

“He’s sort of been beating me and my mom for years . . . and tonight it just . . . escalated,” Jack said, not looking up.

“Sort of been beating you guys?” Rudy said, “What does that mean?”

Jack, tongue loosened from the morphine, responded, “Just that he smacks us around a bit. Gives us bruises in places that don’t show, or that can easily be explained away. He made a mistake with the black eye last night. Usually, when he makes mistakes like that I can cover them with makeup pretty easily, but today Kim saw through it. And . . . most of the time it’s my fault for riling him up. I try to take the attention off of my mom to help her escape the brunt of his anger but . . . it never works, as shown by recent events. It’s my fault. I should have protected her better. And tonight, she almost died for it.”

“Jack, I—I never knew,” Kim started softly, before pausing to take a deep breath and continuing, “You can’t blame yourself for this, Jack. Everything that happened to you guys was your stepfather’s fault, not yours, or your mom’s. Nothing either of you did could have made any difference in the type of person that he _chose_ to be.”

Jack hummed but stayed silent.

“Jack, look at me.”

Jack looked up into Kim’s soft brown eyes.

“None of this is your fault. _At all_. I need you to know that.”

Jack thought of all the times he lay silently still in his bed in the earliest hours of the morning, safe behind a locked door, listening to Abel yelling at his mom when she returned from her shift. All the times he pretended not to hear the slap that usually followed. All the times he pretended to be ignorant as to why his mom went through so many foundations and makeup powders so quickly. All the while, he was hyperaware of his own bruises, barely hidden beneath thin shirts.

He should have stood up for her more. He should have bolted from his bed each morning and confronted Abel. He should have taken more steam off his mom, taken more beatings, been more confrontational towards Abel. He should have done so many more things to protect his mother, talked to her about what was happening, and helped to plan their escape. He sacrificed a lot of himself to Abel to protect his mom, but deep down, he knew he could have done more.

“Yeah. Okay. I know.”

/

Jack was pretty much out of it while they straightened his broken arm back, but while he didn’t feel pain, he would forever remember the feeling of his bone snapping back into place.

And he would forever remember the feeling of Abel slowly breaking it on the living room floor.

After the doctor straightened it, he was put into a full arm cast, one that began at his shoulder and spiraled down to surround his thumb, forcing his elbow to remain at an angle. A sling was put around his neck which held up his arm, allowing his opposite shoulder to bear its entire weight. He was taken off the morphine and left for a few minutes while the nurses got the paperwork ready for him to be checked out.

Kim held his opposite hand the entire time.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Jack said, looking at Kim. “It’s really late, so I understand if you want to go back home before your parents find out you left.”

“No, I want to be here. I don’t care what my parents think right now.”

“Thanks, Kim. I . . . really appreciate it.”

“Of course. You know I would do anything for you.”

“I suddenly have the urge to uh . . . y’know, I’m actually just gonna head out,” Rudy said, not suspiciously in the slightest, and scurried out of the room.

Jack smiled softly in his direction and shook his head lightly, before turning back to Kim, who hadn’t stopped holding his hand. They held each other’s eyes as Kim slid her other hand into Jack’s long hair, sliding her thumb gently across the skin of Jack’s blackened eye, worsened by Abel’s blow to his nose. She grimaced.

“It’s not so bad,” Jack whispered. “It could have been worse.”

“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” Kim whispered back. She softly stroked his hair, and to Jack, it was the best feeling in the world. The last time somebody had stroked his hair like this had been years ago. It was before his mom had begun to fear physical touch. Before Abel.

“I really would do anything for you, Jack,” Kim repeated her sentiment from earlier. “Anything you need, I’m here for you. If you need a place to stay for a bit, someone to talk to, or—or anything. We’re . . . best friends.”

_Best friends, huh_? Jack thought. _Pretty sure we’re more than that now . . ._

And he pulled Kim down for a gentle kiss.

/

It was a month later.

Jack’s mom had been released from the hospital a week after being admitted and was now almost completely recovered from her head injury. Both of their external bruises had disappeared; the mental ones remained to be healed over the months to come.

Today, Jack and his mom were moving into their new apartment. Their old apartment was technically under Abel’s name. After his arrest and their escape, they didn’t want anything to do with him. They wanted to heal and move on from anything Abel.

Jack was sitting on the counter inside their new kitchen with Kim, who was keeping him company as his friends helped bring in boxes to their new home. His arm was still in the white cast and sling they put on at the hospital, and so he wasn’t allowed to do any heavy lifting: doctor’s (and mom’s) orders.

_Even though I totally could do it,_ Jack thought.

“Where do you want this one?” Jerry yelled as he appeared in the archway entrance to the kitchen in a white wifebeater, trying to seem as though he wasn’t struggling with the weight of a box from the moving truck outside.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Jack feigned deep thought, as he and Kim tried to contain their laughter at Jerry’s plight.

“Bedroom? Living room? Backyard? C’mon man.” Jerry begged, sweat appearing on his brow.

Jack laughed. “Living room probably. Just put them all in there for now until we can sort them out.”

Before Jerry could move, a stack of three boxes on a red dolly appeared in the archway, and the front wheel of the dolly ran directly into the back of Jerry’s heal.

“OW!”

“Agh—sorry Jerry!” It was Milton. Jerry cursed at Milton creatively in Spanish and stumbled off into the living room with his box.

“I don’t see the point of trying to ‘look macho’ and be a ‘big strong man carrying big heavy box’ when this dolly exists. It’s actually extremely efficient in reducing the workload of movers,” Milton pointed out, mocking Jerry, and gesturing to his tall stack of boxes.

“It may seem efficient, but I still saw your baby bird arms struggling to push it through the doorway, Milton,” Eddie said as he carried in a pillow.

Milton was about to respond, affronted, before he saw how light of a load Eddie was carrying, and screeched, “And what is _THAT,_ Eddie?”

Jack and Kim laughed as Milton and Eddie went into the living room, bickering loudly, and each carrying their portion of the load.

It was rough telling the rest of his friends what was really going on in his home life. There wasn’t a way around it: the evidence was plain to see in his broken arm. When Jack told them the day after he was released from the hospital, they were extremely comforting and supportive, surprisingly so. It’s not like Jack expected that they _wouldn’t_ be, but usually, he and the guys weren’t overtly free with their emotions. It just goes to show that they were true bros when it counted.

Jack’s mom appeared then from her new bedroom off the kitchen, wearing a bandana over her pulled-back hair. She had light-colored paint on her worn overalls.

“Hello Ms. Brewer,” Kim said, in light blue colored overalls of her own. Her blonde hair was in two pigtails at the base of her neck. “How is the paint job coming?”

“Oh, it’s coming along. I seem to get more paint on me than on the wall, though!” Jack’s mom said, gesturing to her soiled outfit.

Kim laughed politely, and Jack jumped off the counter to get his mom a bottle of water from the fridge, using only his left hand.

“Jack you don’t have to do that,” his mom said, but thankfully accepted the water. “I’m the one who should be taking care of you right now.”

“I’m really okay now, mom. It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Jack said.

“Still, you know I’m always worried about you,” she said, and Jack smiled.

He and his mom had been getting a lot closer ever since Abel was out of their lives. His mom had just started to return to work a few days ago, but she now worked the dayshift so that she and Jack could spend their nights together. Jack stopped staying as many late nights watching at the dojo too so that he and his mom could cook and eat dinner together. His mom’s entire demeanor had also changed for the better. Instead of the anxiety-ridden, tired aura that she usually exuded, she instead seemed, happier, calmer, and freer. It was like night and day.

It was like how it was before Jack’s real dad had died.

They were beginning to heal.

As his mom went back to painting after her short break, Jack walked in front of Kim, who was still sitting on the counter. He put his left hand on her waist, leaned in, and kissed her.

“Hey, you,” she said when he pulled back, and gently laid her hand on his other forearm, encased in the sling.

“Hey, yourself.”

“How are you doing?”

“I’m . . . actually really good. I feel like this move is going to be great for me and my mom. It’s just what we need to finally get past all this.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“So, are you ready for the karate tournament this weekend?” They had all avoided talking about it in front of Jack, who they assumed was disappointed he couldn’t do his favorite thing for the next two months. But, Jack was _honestly_ okay with missing out this time. Taking a break to spend time with his mom was good for him.

“Yep!” Kim said enthusiastically. “Are you still planning on being there?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss cheering you on for the world. You’ll do great,” Jack said.

“Thanks, Jack,” Kim smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

At that moment, Jack realized that he was actually . . . happy. For the first time in years, he didn’t have the feeling of fear and anxiety constantly in the back of his mind. School and karate were no longer his primary form of escape, and his home wasn’t constantly occupied by a monster.

Listening to his friends bicker in the living room, his mom paint their new apartment, and his girlfriend talk about her routine for the tournament, Jack was finally free from his invisible chains.

/

END


End file.
